The next day started a bit rougher than the previous one; the remnants of the headache hadn't quite faded, and a slight sense of guilt crept over him. He was still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
One day outside the castle, and he was already a complete mess. The previous night, he could have gathered valuable information, done his job… but instead, what had he really done? He got drunk, fell asleep on a table, and spent time talking to a boy whose image he now couldn't get out of his head. Tweek's face came to his mind again, filling him with a feeling he couldn't fully identify. 'What's wrong with me? Why do I keep thinking about him?' he asked himself, feeling his stomach churn slightly. He needed to focus, gather more evidence, figure out how many of them were involved, and then throw them into the dungeon…
He sat up a little. Did he really need to throw them into the dungeon?
To him, Tweek didn't seem like much of a threat; he couldn't picture him as a dangerous conspirator. He could just lie to the King, right? But that was a risky decision… Cartman wasn't known for his mercy.
The unease didn't leave him, and Craig knew at that moment that his mission was taking an unexpected turn; he wasn't sure what to think about it. He finally crawled out from under his warm blanket and sat at the edge of the bed. The sun had already risen, and the rays of light illuminated his room. He needed to get ready and start his day.
After a while, he thought maybe he should cook something. He wandered into the kitchen and looked around; Stan had really stocked the place with everything needed to make various recipes. The only problem was… Craig didn't usually cook.
Inside the castle, it was the cooks who handled everything and always had meals ready. The most Craig ever did was carry in sacks of vegetables that arrived from outside, and sometimes, out of curiosity, he would watch them prepare the dishes. One time, he almost made one of the cooks lose his balance; it was an accident, but from that moment on, he was banned from the kitchen, so he didn't have much experience.
He looked at his hands, as if they had the answers… Maybe a vegetable soup would be fine. It didn't sound complicated, right? You just cut the ingredients and add them little by little, season everything, and wait for it to be done. At least, that's how he imagined it.
He gave it his best effort, but the result ended up being a strange mix of half-cooked vegetables, with some so overcooked they were almost falling apart, the flavor so subtle it was barely noticeable. At least it was edible.
He should go find Tweek's bakery, that way, the taste of some good bread would help cover up the disaster of a soup he was eating.
He stood up from his chair, and before leaving, he glanced at the mess he had made. The disorder of vegetables and dirty pots slightly irritated him, causing him to frown. 'That'll be future Craig's problem,' he thought.
There was a bit of wind outside, so bundling up a little wouldn't hurt. He liked this kind of weather, ideal for training—neither too cold nor too hot. As he walked through the streets again, he paid close attention to the sounds around him. The breeze flowed through his hair, making him feel as though it was pushing him forward.
A group of children laughed and played in the street, running as their laughter filled the air. Craig tried to ignore them, focusing his gaze ahead, but in the end, he couldn't help but stop for a moment to watch. It was a strange feeling. Since childhood, he had been at the castle, training to become a knight. He didn't remember laughing that much. He sighed, shaking that thought from his mind before continuing on his way.
Soon, he reached the town's market, just as colorful and bustling as the day before. Around him, stalls displayed various fruits and vegetables, vibrant fabrics fluttered in the wind, and conversations never ceased, the smiles seemed genuine, and the greetings were not bound by tedious formalities. Craig felt... a bit envious.
This time, instead of stopping at the stalls, he chose to keep walking, heading straight for Tweek's bakery. His heart was beating slightly faster than usual, a faint nervousness, an anticipation that he couldn't ignore.
He had already passed by two bakeries, but none of them had a blond boy attending. He hadn't gone inside any of them, only observed from outside before continuing on. What was he supposed to do now? If he wanted bread, he could go to any bakery. But something inside him insisted that, if he wanted bread, it had to be from Tweek's place. It was an illogical thought, but he couldn't shake it from his head.
Lost in his thoughts, he wondered if he should take another look around. Maybe he hadn't been paying close enough attention to the shops.
"Craig, hey." He recognized the voice immediately, Tweek's warm yet nervous tone made him turn around to greet him.
There he was again, the blond boy who looked like he'd stepped out of a dream.
"Tweek," Craig greeted, facing him directly. "I was looking for your bakery, but I guess it's not around here," he admitted, noticing a slight awkwardness in his voice as he realized he had been walking in circles.
"Oh, it's actually the one closest to the market," Tweek responded with a soft laugh, though a slight tremor in his voice betrayed his nervousness. "But right now, my mom is in charge."
"I see." That was all Craig said. Without alcohol in his system, he felt a little calmer in the other boy's presence, noticing that Tweek's voice was a bit higher-pitched than he remembered, but he liked it. A lot, actually.
"Do you want to go? I was just heading back after delivering some orders," Tweek said, lifting his hands slightly to show the two empty baskets he was carrying. The wicker looked a bit worn around the edges, as if the baskets had been used for many years.
Craig nodded, watching as Tweek began to walk at a slightly hurried pace. As he followed him, he couldn't help but notice how well-known Tweek seemed to be in the town. Several vendors and neighbors greeted him as they passed, and Tweek responded with quick, polite gestures.
As they moved through the streets, Tweek pointed out various stalls, commenting on them with evident familiarity. Craig barely paid attention to the words, he was more focused on the melody of Tweek's voice. He responded with brief nods and murmurs, noting how naturally Tweek seemed to move.
Finally, they turned a corner, and Tweek pointed to a small, cozy bakery. A carved wooden sign hung above the door, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted out from inside.
"It's here," Tweek said, smiling as he opened the door and let Craig enter first.
Inside, the bakery was simple but warm. Natural light streamed in through the windows, illuminating shelves filled with golden, tempting loaves. Behind the counter, a woman—clearly Tweek's mother—looked up at the sound of the doorbell. She had the same expressive eyes, though her smile was calmer.
"All done for today," Tweek said, approaching her with the empty baskets.
"Good job, sweetheart," she replied affectionately.
As Tweek and his mother spoke for a moment, Craig wandered around the bakery. The aroma was mouthwatering, rekindling his appetite.
"Want to try one?" Tweek asked, walking over to him. Craig just nodded.
"Our bread is the best. You won't regret tasting it," Tweek's mother said. Craig turned to look at her and couldn't help but think again about how similar mother and son were—not just in appearance but in certain gestures. They both tilted their heads slightly when they spoke.
Tweek handed him the bread in a paper bag, and when Craig tried to pay, Tweek shook his head.
"The first one's on us. I hope you enjoy it," Tweek's mother spoke again. Craig felt a little embarrassed but accepted it.
"If you come back, I promise the second one won't be free," Tweek added jokingly, with a crooked smile that made Craig let out a soft laugh, feeling an unusual warmth in his face as he saw Tweek smile at him like that.
There was something warm about the place, a familiar atmosphere that felt so different from the castle. He said goodbye to them and left the place.
—
When returning home, the morning mess greeted him like an unwelcome guest. Craig let out a small sigh as he placed the paper bag on the table. First, he needed to try the bread he had brought—well, actually, it had been gifted to him. Perhaps it would be a good idea to bring them something in return as a gesture of thanks.
He sliced a piece, hearing the satisfying crunch of the bread as the knife went through. It wasn't warm anymore, but as he took a bite, the flavor caught him by surprise. It was similar to the breads he'd eaten at the castle, but there was a subtle taste he couldn't quite identify. He liked that difference, even though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.
The rest of the day was dedicated to cleaning up the mess he had left in the kitchen. He couldn't afford to create a disaster every time he tried to cook something. As he scrubbed the dishes, he thought about how much he still needed to improve.
His mind wandered back to the events of the past two days. He was supposed to deliver his report the next day, but... he wasn't sure what to write. The day before, he had scribbled down the little he had uncovered, but it still wasn't enough. Maybe he should wait for his meeting with the others at the tavern. Hopefully, he could gather more clues there. For now, he knew that Tweek and Wendy seemed to be connected to the King's suspicions, but was he really willing to turn them in?
As he prepared to head out, the sun was already sinking below the horizon, and he didn't want to be too late. Stepping through the door, he set a clear goal for the night: avoid alcohol—or at least not drink as much as the previous evening. Actually, he should focus on another, more important goal: gathering information for his mission. But if he were honest with himself, he'd rather leave that for later. He'd figure it out eventually.
The closer he got to the tavern, the faster his heart began to race. Why was he feeling this way again? The same thing had happened earlier in the morning, right before running into Tweek. The guy was nice; maybe that was it. It had been a while since he'd made a new friend—that was probably all it was. He stopped for a moment, a bit confused. He wasn't supposed to be making friends with the townspeople, was he?
As he gently pushed open the tavern door, a lively scene greeted him. This time, there were more people than the night before; some danced to the rhythm of the music, laughing without a care. A melody drifted from an accordion being played in the back. The atmosphere was much merrier.
Craig took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous energy that had followed him throughout the day, as he scanned the room for Tweek and the others.
Craig stepped further into the tavern and quickly spotted Wendy, who waved him over. She led him to a table, the same one as the previous night, though this time it was occupied by the people Tweek had arrived with last time. However, the blonde he had been hoping to see wasn't there, and he couldn't help but feel a slight disappointment.
He took a seat while Wendy sat next to him, between him and the other girl.
"I'm glad you came," Wendy said with a slight smile. She continued, "Tweek told me that you didn't get a chance to talk about… you know, your topic of interest yesterday." Wendy hesitated for a moment. "Apparently, you were a bit drunk."
The girl let out a soft laugh, and Craig felt a bit embarrassed. What she said wasn't untrue.
"The beer where I come from isn't that strong," he tried to defend himself, though he knew it sounded weak.
"Sure, sure," Wendy replied with a mischievous smile. "But since we're here, let me introduce you to Bebe and Butters." She gestured to the two blondes sitting across from him. "Tweek shouldn't be long, but we can start without him."
Craig gave them a quick glance. Bebe smiled at him with a confident air, while Butters seemed a bit more shy but still returned his gaze with kindness.
"Speaking of what you mentioned yesterday, about that group in your town that, according to you, conspires scandalously against the King," Wendy began, her tone becoming a bit more serious. Craig nodded slightly, waiting for her to continue. "We're not exactly that kind of group, though we are certainly unhappy with several of the rules and taxes."
"If this town is still standing, it's because we help each other," Bebe added, and Wendy smiled at him, nodding in agreement.
"Exactly. That's why we try to keep everything under control and avoid serious issues with the crown. We're not looking to start a rebellion, we just want to live in peace."
"Though we haven't been doing this for long," Butters added, quickly looking away to catch the attention of a waiter, the same one who had served Craig the previous night. "We'll order something, and don't worry, I think they have non-alcoholic drinks," he added with a sympathetic smile.
Craig couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed, as if it were the thousandth time that day. Still, he noticed how the conversation flowed naturally, and a sense of relief washed over him as he confirmed that he wasn't dealing with a rebellious faction.
"So we ask that you keep discretion regarding this matter," Wendy concluded, her eyes fixed on him as if to ensure he understood the weight of her words. Craig simply nodded.
As he delved into his thoughts, the waiter approached the table.
"What can I get for you, Leo?" the waiter asked Butters with a sideways smile. Craig noticed the blonde nervously looked away, fiddling with his fingers on the table.
"Kenny, could you bring us the usual and something a bit... lighter for our new buddy?" Butters replied, regaining some composure.
"The beer hit you hard yesterday, huh?" Kenny commented, now addressing Craig directly with a laugh.
Craig opened his mouth to defend himself, but before he could say anything, Kenny had already walked away to take the order. Wendy let out a discreet laugh at Craig's expression, while Bebe crossed her arms with an amused smile. The relaxed and friendly atmosphere of the tavern made these moments feel almost like being among old friends, even though he had just met them, and he felt a bit out of place.
Kenny returned after a few minutes with the drinks. He first placed one in front of Craig, who took a curious sip. The sweet, slightly tangy flavor was quite pleasant. He watched as the waiter set another drink in the empty spot next to him. Then, a hand pulled out the chair and slid it back. Craig looked at the owner of the hand and saw Tweek, who greeted the waiter with a smile.
When their eyes met, Tweek smiled warmly. Craig felt his heart skip a beat. The soft candlelight made the blonde seem almost to glow, giving him a charming aura that Craig couldn't help but notice.
"Sorry for being late, there was a small issue at the bakery," Tweek apologized as he took his seat and greeted the others.
"Everything okay?" Craig couldn't help but ask.
"Yeah, nothing serious, just took me a bit of time to sort it out," Tweek replied with a calm smile before taking a sip of his drink. "I hope I didn't miss too much of the conversation," he added, turning his attention to the group.
"We only gave him an introduction and I introduced him to everyone. We were waiting for you to continue with the details," Wendy explained, having been laughing with the other two blondes.
Craig nodded, feeling a bit more at ease now that Tweek was there. There was something about his presence that made the atmosphere feel more welcoming. The soft murmur of conversations and the aroma of food that filled the air seemed to fade away.
"Oh, sure," Tweek replied, visibly nervous as his fingers fidgeted with the rim of his glass. "Well, we started this a few months ago. Our main goal is to find ways to help the town without drawing too much attention. We don't want to catch the King's eye…"
"Yeah… definitely better if he doesn't find out," Craig added, recalling with distaste how irrational the monarch could be.
"Did you tell Tweek about what happened with the group you mentioned?" Wendy asked, with a curious tone, making Tweek look at him with intrigue.
"No…" Craig hesitated for a moment, quickly searching for how to continue his fabricated story. He knew he was walking on thin ice. "They were people who were also unhappy with the King. But they chose to act more aggressively, attacking anyone linked to the castle. Obviously, that didn't end well… they ended up losing their freedom."
The group listened in silence, while Tweek's expression grew more serious, as if an invisible weight had fallen upon his shoulders.
"Oh, I really feel bad for them. Although I understand their anger," Bebe commented, touching her chin as she seemed to ponder the situation.
"What punishment did they receive?" Tweek asked, clearly concerned.
"At first, they were thrown into the dungeon… but after a while, they paid a fine and were released," Craig said, knowing that his story didn't make much sense. Those people would probably have faced a much worse fate, but he didn't want to scare them more than necessary.
"It's better to be careful," Butters concluded, to which Tweek nodded quickly, still seeming somewhat uneasy.
Craig felt a slight discomfort seeing the worry in Tweek's eyes. Even though he was lying, he didn't want his story to cause more fear.
"In fact, this group was started by Tweek," Wendy said, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "He's sort of our leader."
Craig watched as Tweek blushed slightly at being mentioned by title and noticed that he seemed nervous as he adjusted a lock of hair.
"First, I joined, then Bebe, and finally Butters," Wendy continued with a smile.
"Kenny isn't an official member of the group, but he joins our meetings from time to time," Butters added, glancing at the waiter, who seemed busy with other tables.
"I'd consider him part of us," Bebe interjected with a light laugh. "He's almost always here, even if it's just to bother Butters."
"Kenny tends to be… a bit of a jokester," Butters explained, with a mix of shyness and resignation.
The conversation felt more relaxed as the jokes eased the initial tension.
"Getting back to the point, if you decide to join, we'd officially be five. We're not many, but we've managed to keep everything under control," Wendy said, looking at Craig.
"You don't have to decide right now," Tweek interjected with a kind smile. "Take your time and think it over."
Craig couldn't help but smile in response. There was something about Tweek's sincerity and natural charm that made him feel good.
"Sure," Craig said, as Kenny returned, this time sitting next to Butters and shifting the conversation a bit.
The discussion continued animatedly, though Craig preferred to stay on the sidelines most of the time. In larger groups, he found it more comfortable to observe and listen while enjoying the company. He liked the atmosphere; the laughter and jokes felt genuine, and although they included him occasionally, his responses were brief and to the point. However, this didn't seem to bother anyone, as if they accepted his way of being without question.
Time passed almost unnoticed, and gradually he began to feel the urge to rest. He thought about leaving but decided to take one last look at the group.
Directly in front of him was Bebe, the blonde with long curls. He watched as she placed one hand on Wendy's shoulder, who immediately turned to her. Bebe then smiled brightly, showing her teeth in a playful grin, and Wendy responded with a warm smile while brushing one of her rebellious curls away from her face.
Meanwhile, Kenny was recounting a story about some troublesome customers he had earlier; apparently, they had started a fight, and he had stopped them. Craig noticed he seemed to be exaggerating a bit, making it sound like a tougher and somewhat fantastical fight. Butters looked amazed with his mouth slightly open, while Tweek watched him intently.
Craig's eyes focused a bit more on Tweek. There was something about him that intrigued him, and he found it pleasant just to look at him. The way his blonde hair fell across his forehead, the defined line of his jaw, and the gentle curve of his nose… all these details made him unique in Craig's eyes.
He glanced around at each of them, observing the relaxed smiles and gestures of camaraderie they shared. Beside him, Tweek was laughing softly at a comment from Bebe, his smile so warm and genuine that Craig could hardly bear to imagine it fading into darkness behind cold bars.
A silent conclusion began to settle firmly in his mind: he wouldn't send any of them to the dungeon.
He couldn't.
But, 'What will I do now?' he wondered, feeling the air in the tavern growing denser, harder to breathe. He knew well that by defying the King, he was putting himself in a fragile position, one that could cost him not only his honor but his life.
As the conversation continued around him, Craig could barely focus on the words. He knew he was playing with fire.
But there was no turning back now.
—
The next day, Craig decided to return to Tweek's bakery. He wanted to keep trying the variety of breads he had seen the day before. However, upon arrival, he was met with an unpleasant surprise—the place was closed. The door was firmly secured, and the windows were covered by light curtains that blocked any view of the inside.
He felt a small pang of disappointment but quickly decided not to stand idly by. He headed to the market to do some shopping. He browsed the stalls, bought some fresh fruit, and decided to take advantage of the morning by exploring the streets he hadn't yet walked. As he wandered, he noticed a small tailor shop, and upon looking closer, he recognized Bebe, attending to a customer. He continued his walk, passing by the town's chapel, which was adorned with beautiful stained glass windows.
After a while, Craig realized that, although he was trying to distract himself, deep down he was just killing time. He wanted to return to the bakery, not only for the bread but for the chance to talk more with Tweek. When he returned, he frowned upon seeing that the place was still closed. Could it have something to do with the problem Tweek had mentioned the day before? Perhaps something had gone wrong, but he would only know if he managed to speak with him later. Before heading to the castle, he could spend some time at the tavern, though he wasn't sure if they met there daily… maybe he'd return to the bakery just before sunset.
Back at his house, the peace didn't last long. A soft knock on the door caught his attention. Craig got up somewhat reluctantly and opened it to find Stan. He had been expecting him, as far as he knew, Stan was the only one who knew his location.
"Hey, Craig. Sorry to bother you, but I need to ask a favor," Stan greeted him with a somewhat hesitant smile. "I hurt my hand and need to chop some wood, but if I keep going like this, I'll end up losing an arm."
Craig glanced at the bandage on Stan's hand and let out a light sigh. "Sure." Doing something would help clear his mind, even though he had planned to rest a little.
"Don't worry, it won't be unpaid work. I'll make it up to you later," Stan added, sounding more cheerful now that Craig agreed. "Besides, you can keep some of the wood. A little extra never hurts."
'A little' wood ended up being quite a bit. The sun was starting to set, and Craig still wasn't finished. While he did most of the heavy work, Stan helped as much as he could with just one arm, and they made good progress.
Craig felt slightly irritated. He wouldn't have time to go to the bakery and talk to Tweek.
The sun was nearly set; he wouldn't have time to speak with Tweek today. Kyle had instructed him to submit a report every three nights, and today was the day. The worrying part was that he had only written a few lines, and honestly, he wasn't sure if sharing that information would put them at risk.
"I need to go grab a few things before heading to the castle. I can keep helping you later, see you," Craig said quickly to Stan, who barely had time to nod before Craig was already on his horse, riding off in a bit of a hurry.
Back at home, Craig decided to tear up the page he had written. He'd think about what to do later; for now, he'd quickly write a report with vague information.
The ride to the castle felt heavy. He was feeling the accumulated fatigue of the day, and the worst part was that he didn't really want to go back. Deep down, he was a bit surprised by this—when he was ordered to go to the village, the idea of breaking his routine had irritated him. Now, the only thing that bothered him was not being able to talk to Tweek, and that thought made his mood sink even more.
As he approached the castle, the damp, cold air from the moat enveloped him, accompanied by the unpleasant smell of stagnant water wafting up from the bottom of the stone bridge. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. "This day couldn't get worse," he thought, though part of him knew saying that was tempting fate.
Determined not to let his foul mood show too much, he tried to clear his mind before meeting Kyle. He was probably in the same room where he had received him a few days ago. However, upon opening the door, he found the room empty.
He walked a bit through the corridors until another knight stopped him. It was one of his friends—if you could call him that. They had basically grown up together in the castle.
"Craig, we heard about your mission, why are you back so soon?" It was Tolkien, a nice guy compared to others, at least he wasn't the jerk Clyde. The last thing Craig needed right now was to deal with his obnoxious jokes.
"I have to deliver a report, but that idiot Kyle isn't in his office," Craig replied, frowning in clear annoyance, which made his friend chuckle softly.
"What's up, man? What's with the face?" Tolkien gave him a teasing smile, though Craig knew he didn't mean it in a bad way—it didn't stop it from being irritating at the moment.
"Had a bad day, that's all," Craig let out a sigh, trying to shake off the accumulated tension.
"Come on, let's go have dinner. That'll probably help clear your head a bit," Tolkien offered. Honestly, it sounded like a good idea.
Eating in the castle was a bit different from eating alone, and a thousand times less fun than sharing a drink at the tavern with Tweek and his friends. Here, everything was rigid. Conversations were formal, almost always about strategies, duties, or court issues. And those with higher ranks tended to ignore the others or treat them with condescension. And, of course, there were those damned protocols that made even meals feel like just another task. Damn protocols.
He realized he preferred the warmth and naturalness of the village, like chatting with Tweek. Even listening to Kenny's jokes or the whispered conversations between Wendy and Bebe.
As he left the dining hall, Craig ran into the person he wanted to talk to.
"Hey," he greeted, feeling a bit awkward.
"Oh, hey, Craig. Are you here to deliver your report?" Kyle greeted him with his usual calmness, as Craig nodded slightly and searched for the sheet in the leather bag Stan had given him.
"I went to your office earlier, but you weren't there."
"Thanks. Next time, you can just leave it on my desk, so you don't have to go looking for me," Kyle replied, with that attitude that sometimes seemed almost indifferent.
"Sure..."
"Oh, by the way, you need to stay in your quarters tonight in case the King has any new instructions in the morning," Kyle added, flashing a slight smile before turning his attention to another advisor whispering in his ear.
Craig sighed in resignation. He would have preferred to return to the house near the village, but orders were orders. He had no choice but to follow them.